Azura, Verdura
by madame guille o. tinn
Summary: Grimmjow, an OC, and Ulquiorra. Pain amused him, demise was his companion. The Sexta’s existence was nothing more than a resurrected shade of life casted into yet darker depths of morbid pleasure. His cruel passion, however, will be set on new sights...
1. Chapter 1: Arrancar Cincuenta y Ocho

Bleach characters and all other Bleach stuff: (c) Kubo Tite-sama

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**Chapter 1: Arrancar Sincuenta y Ocho**

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Seclusion.

Darkness.

Silence.

Desolation.

How it felt like that...

Laying...

Floating on this endless black void.

Sensing nothing.

Feeling nothing on my bare skin.

Tasting only stale air.

Is this really it?

The only way to more power?

...How long have I stayed ... trapped inside my own body...

No... it must be time... IT MUST BE!

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A thin spear of light shot from one end of the abyss. It seemed alien among the dark masses of shadows, smoke and nothingness. But a comforting herald it was then to the woman drifting beneath it. Her mercury eyes glinted with its wandering rays. She held out an arm, long been hanging on her side pointlessly, to the blinding, white ray.

'...finally...'

Light and flesh connected.

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"Okaeri... our new sister..."

The voice, a glaciating cold, laced, however, with convincing cordiality, echoed off the dim walls of the room. The bored audience hidden around in dark corners turned slowly to an indistinguishable figure in the centre. It was shadowed by the looming frame of Aizen Sousuke. His eyes, completely erased of all emotions, glistened momentarily at the combined shimmer from the Hougyouku in its glass cube and the suppressed excitement of yet creating another augmentation to his perfect army. His lips furthered across his face.

_Crack._

That object was wrapped in white bandages, solidified by months of entrapment. It was crumbling softly, cocoon-like; pieces falling on the black marble floor. This was an excessively usual happening, though, to the Espadas, who now resumed their own conversations.

"That Grimmjow... either he's waitin' for another grand entrance, or he's really not bringin' his ass up here again. ..."

"He may not consider trivial things such as this as something he could waste his precious time on."

"...tch_..._ yeah... if his time was ever _precious_..."

"..."

"..._ahhhh_... Nnoitra, you are annoying Halibel-san already. Allow me to remind you that you shouldn't have been ranked higher than Grimmjow if not for his hard-headedness and pride."

"Ha! Him? Stronger than me? Puh-lease! Those stupid humans got more skill n' brain than him! Hell, even blasted shinigamis could kill 'im easily! I don' even know how he got picked to be an Espada, seein' as he was already a complete failure as a hollow-!"

"Now, now Nnoitra..." Szayel Grantz smiled. "...once you have stopped scorning your beloved Grimmjow, you can see who has arrived."

The great high black doors parted a gap, and in strode, without much perturbation from the glaring eyes following him, a lone arrancar. His footsteps reverberated in hollow tones in the now silence-struck room. He looked no older than twenty, but was exceptionally tall with a perfectly built body, as displayed by the unzipped and mid-torso cut upper suit of his white hakama. His hands were buried deep in their usual places; his pockets, and as was his face fastened in the accustomed mixture of inexcitement and irritability, the latter of which amplified by the stiff creases brought about by his contracted eyebrows. His bright cobalt hair was fixed messily upwards; some strands hanging down his forehead. It impeccably matches his set of shocking, electric blue eyes, their lids half-closed in an air of bored detachment and lack of interest in much. A remnant of his hollow mask, half of a canine-like jaw, is displayed on his right cheek. He can be, indeed, a natural and effortless subject of fear.

"Grimmjow..." The cold and commanding, yet genial tones of Aizen were directed to him. He stopped immediately in his tracks, only a few steps away from his fellow Espadas. As he turned around, his overbearing demeanour was ebbing away instantly. The former Fifth Division Captain and banished traitor of Seiretei was only ever that one that had given him unease. His sapphire eyes glinted for a moment before he answered, "Naze-ka, Aizen-sama?"

"I have heard just recently that you have just...er..._ disposed_...of one of your fraccións, is that right...?"

"Keh. That bit of filth annoyed the hell outta me... Don't think he'd ever be some use to you, anyway..."

"..."

Grimmjow's face contorted. Taut silence from that former shinigami meant anything save good.

"...Grimmjow..." Aizen repeated. This time, emphasized with his most frigid tone.

"I am sure that everyone here is all aware of the complications and work to be done in developing a new ally, a new addition to our family each time. I have yet even to master the use of the Hougyoku and uncover ways of speeding up and advancing the transformation of Menos. So, I deem it logical to give out punishments to any of you who think that it is of their power to see to the deaths of their fellow arrancars. However..."

Aizen paused for several seconds, during which Grimmjow stared intently at him. His whole attention was caught at the word 'however'.

"...I understand, Grimmjow. All your actions were but exaggerated attempts meant to please me... at least... I believe so."

He took some steps closer to the frozen Espada.

"You are quite fortunate, Grimmjow Jeagerjaques. I have acquired another willing and able gillian this previous month. I do hope this one will now, at least, last under you for three weeks. A record, I am sure."

On that mocking note, he turned towards the door, and, with a listless wave of hand, dismissed everyone in the room.

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Pride has always been his weakness. Second only to that of resulting impulsiveness and a smug disregard for rules. Which, practically, _are _certain acts of pride. Needless to say, the Sixth Espada would have no hesitations when it comes to eliminating anything, just anything, that dare leave a filthy trace on his otherwise daunting status. But as circumstance demands it, Grimmjow, at the moment, is driven into self-containment. An extremely impossible feat.

He was, after all, given a _female_ fracción.

He detested weaklings the most. So, naturally, women were given a special level of loathing. He had seen enough of their sick, emotionally-based ideals, too much of their fixation to the past and other disgusting sentimentalities, the tiresome sight of Loly and Menoly clinging to their master Aizen like a pair of desperate lapdogs, and their obvious lack of pleasure in carnage-filled combats. That was women to him, in general.

Grimmjow spared her a glance. The small figure that had followed him in his shadow along the white-washed corridors remained dead silent all the way. She donned a temporary robe, having been just retrieved from her shell of bandages. Her inanimate eyes, a scintillating mercury hue, were still boring on the floor with a gaze which does not seem to be in that dimension. It was endless, empty, and cold. That deadened look reminded Grimmjow forcibly, with a sudden wave of dislike, of Ulquiorra Schiffer. A person of unrelenting impassiveness, that other Espada's mere mention was enough to start a flicker of light in those vivid blue eyes. Even now, as he inspected the new arrancar more, her limp, flowing charcoal-black tresses also looked strongly reminiscent of Ulquiorra's shorter locks

'...gods...this new dog and that walking corpse could be related, for all I know...'

They reached the end of the torch-lit hallway, a steel-granite door bearing ominously upon them. With an effortless push of a hand, it swung apart noiselessly. The pair ambled in.

Suddenly diminishing all signs of probable muteness, she spoke in, perhaps, usual icy tones.

"Where are we?"

Grimmjow faced her, his surprise mingling with utter amusement. His signature maniacal grin quickly sprode across his features.

"Ah, finally talkin' now, eh? Glad we found out you still know speech, 'cos I ain't taking any mute chick to serve me."

She remained staring at him. Blankly still.

"Could that 'mute chick' label be possibly referring to me?"

"Slow, aren't ya? But let's not dwell too much on the details... I'll explain everythin' clearly right now, shall I?"

With a force and speed comparable only to the lithest of beasts, he thrusted a hand to the adjacent wall and caught her neck on the way. The wall released a thin cloud of dust as it impacted. Despite the unexpected display of brute and violence, the female arrancar preserved her impassivity and showed an odd numbness to pain. Her haunting eyes were still directed at Grimmjow's.

"Listen carefully, bitch. You should now by now the things 'bout us, Espadas. We ten were specially handpicked by Aizen among all his creations... 'cos of our power. I'm the Sexta Espada..."

He tightened his clutch.

"Meaning, I'm the sixth strongest of all arrancars. And do you think I'd let someone like you spread shit on my days?

Hell, no."

Grimmjow drew closer, maintaining the vice-like grip on the female fracción. His smirking facet flashed wide on his face.

"Drill that into your brain... or, on second thought, into your skin should be more than enough..."

The blue-haired arrancar roughly pushed upwards, with his free hand, her only garment. The girl's abdomen stood palely against Grimmjow's vast hand. Her ghastly skin seemed to be in perfect blend with her robe's whiteness and only displayed barely a tinge of blood. Her still gaze moved to the scabrous palm of the Espada. He concentrated a tiny amount of his reiatsu at the tip of his forefinger; the neon-blue spark threw off immense heat and emitted strands of smoke, swirling freely in front of Grimmjow's grinning visage. He slowly placed the ignited finger on the exposed skin. It burned instantly on contact. The bright cobalt eyes momentarily shone with anticipation and were looking down at her in overwhelming contempt. A predator upon its powerless prey. Yet this prey was not yielding to that natural hierarchy. The smaller arrancar did not so much as let a blink escape her inexplicable composure as the fetid stench of her own scorched skin reached her nostrils. Nor were there any signs of fear etched on her pallid face. Grimmjow narrowed his eyes as he took notice. He started tracing, with agonizing pressure, on the skin from the now blackened point of contact. It left its trail of scalded flesh and a lingering smell of grey fumes. A brownish-red figure now lay permanently embedded on the contrasting paleness; a rough number six on the left side of her stomach. He bent down, still securely clasping her throat, and came face-to-face with the scabbed skin. With a smile of satisfaction, he began licking on the fresh scar. It sent millions of nerves quivering in extreme pain, but did not seemingly still reach her benumbed expressions. Grimmjow's damp, moist tongue continued cooling, and inflicting unbearable soreness, on the girl's skin. She did not, even once, recoil.

Grimmjow straightened up finally and withdrew his hand. The female arrancar immediately slid down the wall then stood rather firmly in place for someone who had a trachea blocked for long. She looked once more at Grimmjow through those half-closed eyes. She cocked her head to one side.

"I was not told that long-winded 'initiation ceremonies' were given to new fraccións..."

It leaked of sarcasm.

A nerve emerged visible on Grimmjow's forehead; this woman was really trying his patience. How he hated that. Unbeknownst to the others, however, he can compose himself a little in a matter of seconds, when needed of course. Bursting into a fit of rage right in front of this pest would only yield to her satisfaction. And he wouldn't want that now, would he?

"...Your name?" he spat.

With mocking formality, the girl bowed her mane of charcoal-black then answered in that chilling voice of hers.

"Ferriesze Quiksilver. Arrancar fifty-eight, as I'm told. Appointed, however not yet accepted, I believe, as new subordinate to Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, sixth of the Espada."

She looked up and met only with Grimmjow's departing back. He ran a careless hand along the back of his head and spoke in a voice intended for her to hear.

"Quiksilver, huh? ...I'll try rememberin' that..."

And he disappeared.

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do review please *w*


	2. Chapter 2: Conflux

..._Bleach _characters and other _Bleach_ thingies: (c) Kubo Tite

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**Chapter 2: Conflux**

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The Cuatro Espada was never a man of nonsense and impracticality, an ironic contrast with a certain blue-haired colleague of his. That is why, most probably, they always seem to have an endless supply of pungent retorts reserve for the other. This mutual hatred has brought about numerous blunders to date by the more prideful arrancar; mere amusement was only ever the thing that had staunched Aizen from their permanent separation, much to the majority's disappointment.

Ulquiorra would not have wanted a day without another cycle of bickerings with Grimmjow, however.

They were quite..._fun._

And one who has known Ulquiorra Schiffer learns to immediately disassociate humane perceptions, such as that, from him. From that wavy, ebony-washed hair that fluctuates down his head in smooth angles, to that paper-white skin clothing his slender physique, Grimmjow has long coined him, with loving provocation, the 'walking corpse'. That, of course, never affects him.

Far from successfully ticking him off, all of Grimmjow's seemingly obnoxious, childish points have but and odd soothing effect on Ulquiorra. They were his daily entertainment, bordering at times, on addiction.

Nobody ever notices a slight sheen layering the arrancar's deep-green eyes whenever the Sexta Espada mutters yet another side comment during a congregation. Nor do they see one of his fingers, tipped by those ink-tainted nails, run along thoughtfully on his mouth, tipped, yet again, by an ink-tainted upper lip, as Grimmjow lets out one audible snort after another at Tousen Kaname's weekly reports. Neither is Grimmjow, himself, aware of that stalking gaze Ulquiorra keeps on him as he executes the usual, ostentatious walk-outs in the midst of lectured-reprimands from Aizen.

And so, bored from another futile attempt of training Yammy, Ulquiorra Schiffer set off. That ever present reiatsu left oozing out carelessly all over the gargantuan area of the _Las Noches _presented him his trail. Grimmjow's electric scent was, by far, the most effortless for him to track.

Now, spirit beings take it as a basic requisite to develop an acute and conscious sensitivity to any kind of spirit pulses. The Espadas see it as a battle requirement, and, as such, may be likened to natural survival instincts.

Instinct.

It has always been Ulquiorra's calculating mind and impeccable foresight that had set him apart from his comrades, who depend heavily on their instincts. He did not, however, fail to realize that a number of his actions were actually instinctive as well. For example, the relatively easy pursuit of Grimmjow need not the usual concentration. Following that Espada, it was as though he knew, rather than felt, his current whereabouts. He had wondered once about this unusual compulsion towards him, and, after some thinking, dismissed it as pure curiosity for the great contrast between Grimmjow's personality and his own.

He now reached the forked end of the corridor, keenly aware of the resounding footsteps come from the left path. He suddenly stopped. There were more noises than expected. Yes, he could hear Grimmjow's own z ori falling on the white marble floor in his usual stride, and yet, another pair of feet was heard to be closely following him. As they drew closer, a tiny expression of shock flitted across Ulquiorra's face. He was with another arrancar, one who had expertly masked his reiatsu all this time. To fool Ulquiorra into hiding their presence was a feat only his fellow Espadas could obtain.

Grimmjow and his companion finally rounded on the corner and came into clear view of Ulquiorra, who remained still in the middle of the passageway. Unseen by them, his emerald eyes momentarily widened. Their appearance had stunned him with an incredulous discovery. It was merely a frail-looking, female numerós who had made him believe Grimmjow to be alone beforehand.

"Ulquiorra? ...And just when I thought this day was shit-free at least..."

The Cuatro Espada rested his eyes back unto Grimmjow's face. He was wearing a signaturely smug expression which Ulquiorra took as a comfort. He ran a slender, ashen-white finger across his lips and gave Grimmjow's new fracción a long surveying gaze.

"Ah. The new girl. She seems to have already survived a day and a half with you. Very good indeed."

He replaced his hand inside his pocket and watched in amusement as Grimmjow struggled to find a decent retort to his statement. He returned to the other person.

"It is Ferriesze, correct?"

The woman bowed low.

"Hai desu."

"Best of luck then. If you value your life, with him, you'll be needing alot."

Ferriesze looked up. And as she did, an odd feeling of recollection swept through Ulqiuorra's head. Her semblance to something...or someone, was uncanny. Where had he seen her before?

"I appreciate your concern, Ulquiorra-sama..." she bowed once more.

"...Ikkemashou-ka, Grimmjow-sama?"

Grimmjow merely grunted and shot Ulquiorra a last contemptuous look. Clearly, his loss for a retaliation had injured his pride a little. The pair continued on their way through the hall. Ulquiorra followed suit and disappeared through the shadows of the opposite end.

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Ichimaru Gin was, as his habit, lolling about the control and operations chamber. He had taken into liking the absurd amount of fun he could acquire inside this small room alone. For instance, his daily amusement now consisted of giving Aizen-san's workers some more extra challenges in the construction of the Las Noches. After a mere fortnight of this, almost everyone in the workforce was rendered incapacitated.

Today, however, he was given a rather surprising visit.

Pressing with a flourish the flashing red button that would send swarms of insect-type hollows upon the unfortunate, remaining hands, he turned his swivel chair around. The screen behind him now bore footages of screaming figures stormed by seas upon seas of those tiny, masked creatures, and outlined Gin's seated silhouette with a dim glow.

Ulquiorra paid no attention to the projections and directed a meaningful gaze unto Gin's eyes, shut tightly in those characteristic upward curves. An elongated sneer raced towards the sides of his face.

"Ulquiorra! Need somethin' from me?"

The Espada nodded briefly and stepped out of the light flooded space of the doorframe. Cast into the shadows of the room, he leaned onto an adjacent wall and, in the usual fashion, pocketed his hands. Gin fixed on a mildly curious expression.

"That woman... I am sure that you, as the second-in-command, know...

...Aizen-sama let something be done to her, had he not?"

Gin shifted in his chair to rest a chin on his propped arm. Every part of his face glinted with malice.

"Now...'bout that...we have a tiny li'l prob, see?... Even if I do know,... how are ya plannin' on makin' me talk?"

Ulquiorra's feline pupils contracted into even narrower slits. Instinctively, he grabbed hold of his katana's hilt. Gin chuckled softly and waved him away.

"Oh, nuthin' like that, Cuatro_-chan_... I was thinkin' of somethin' more subtler, and, way more interesting... not that I'm malignin' your skills...

...so, up for a game?"

The arrancar replaced his hand in his pocket and bore on Gin a long, penetrating gaze. The defected 3rd division captain could not help but shiver slightly. Those olive-green eyes lingered for a moment on Gin's sheathed zanpakutou before Ulquiorra sighed, "Very well. What must I do?"

"Solve the mystery on your own, o' course!"

"I am not in a joking mood at the moment, Ichimaru-san."

"Hmmmmm...an' so am I... weird, huh?" Gin let out a snicker then finally stood up from his seat. After securing a place right in front of Ulquiorra, he rested a palm on the expanse of wall beside the Espada's right ear. Ulquiorra's fingers twitched inside his pocket.

"Don' worry, Cuatro-chan... Anyway, I'd be leavin' you with a teeny clue as a starter-up..."

With his other arm, Gin dramatically raised hand and extended its index digit so that it now pointed directly at the arrancar's chest.

"...Boku...ga...?"

"Uh-huh..." Gin's tautened lips stretched wider still. "...or...more specifically..."

His outstretched finger moved further upwards. It froze in the immediate space in front of Ulquiorra's left eye, nearly touching it. Blinking would have been excusable, but not even that crossed the Cuatro Espada's stubborn nonchalance. Yet, at least, he could not suppress a tinge of doubt and annoyance.

"How could one of my eyes be possibly connected to her? Unless, of course, I am unaware that it possesses a mind of its own and has gallivanted around leisurely in Hueco Mundo until, apparently, giving birth to Ferriesze..."

Gin tutted softly, bringing down his hand; the other remained firmly on the wall.

"Usin' sarcastic tones on your superiors now, eh? Aizen-san spoils you too much... On the other hand, I still have some authority over you...so you won't mind-"

His smirk lengthened, seemingly cracking his face into halves.

"-gettin' punished a little by me, would ya?"

Ulquiorra reacted in an instant. The commanding officer, anticipating his move, had grabbed his wrist even before his right hand could touch the sword's handle. He pulled the arm across Ulquiorra's chest and pinioned it securely above the opposite shoulder.

"Nuh-uh... That'd be an extra punishment for you, Schiffer-san."

"And one for you, too, Gin, seeing as you'd rather flirt with your subordinates than keep up with your duties."

Both heads turned to the unexpected visitor.

Tousen Kaname was leaning on the doorframe, arms folded. His eyes, albeit sightless and covered by a band of metal, clearly gave the pair reproachful looks.

"Kaname! ...ya know, it's just polite to knock before enterin'..."

"Aizen-sama needs to see you. Now."

Gin sighed, released Ulquiorra swiftly, and headed to his waiting companion. The wide sneer was still plastered across his features and was kept there even as he turned his head back to give the arrancar some parting words.

"Good luck guessin'! ..._Cuatro-chan_..."

The two banished captains stepped out into the light-flooded corridor, and then vanished simultaneously; their shunpos leaving transient sound waves before finally leaving Ulquiorra with silence to think. There was one man left that could be possibly interrogated.

Yes, he'd very much prefer asking Aizen-sama himself than that utterly psychotic narcissist; however, his questions would most probably be avoided or unanswered with him. After all, Ulquiorra was practically Aizen's right hand and this extremely rare occasion of unrelayed data simply meant that he was not supposed to know. This was a plan finally not requiring his services and, most especially, an inquisitive nose poking around. A single query might even cost him his life.

Ulquiorra decided to clear his mind for the time being and head to the solitary confinement of his room.

As his zori made echoing footfalls on the marble floor, a stray thought crossed his mind.

...And to think that his curiosity for that girl actually made him consider asking Aizen-sama for obviously delicate information.

Her connection to him must be quite significant.

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reviews would be loved. *w*


	3. Chapter 3: Ojos Mercurios

_Bleach character & other Bleach thingies: (c) Kubo Tite_

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**Chapter 3: Ojos Mercurios**

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"You heard me right, dog. Training. And don't make me repeat myself again..."

She nodded. I rolled my eyes. Pathetic.

Dog. Freak. Ass. Whore. Choice titles I use on her, among the mildest. As all name-calling taunts, they were meant to disturb, even hurt, rouse irritation and anger... simple things her blasted indifference could not even accomplish.

And then there is her unreasonable submission to my slightest demands, something I've only witnessed with Ulquiorra... to his _Aizen-sama_. She does spout out sarcastic comments every now and then, but those were already the climaxes of whatever amount of rebellion she has. Boredom was never a thing I could stomach, and, now that I'm being given a full blast of it, I don't know for how much longer I could put up with this.

She was, in all respects, something new, and yet, felt awfully familiar.

I beckoned for her to get in first with a jerk of the head, holding the door ajar. She passed in front of me and disappeared in the darkness of the room. I followed, closing the door on my back. It let out a hollow, echoing sound, suggesting the size of the chamber still bathed in shadows, which, with a snap of my fingers, let lights from a mysterious source come flooding in. Tch. Aizen and his dramatic architectural features.

We were inside a dome-like hall whose vastness was comparable to the throne room itself. The enclosure was completely bleached ivory and held numerous cracks here and there. I could only hazard a guess who last used this.

If anything, the floor was tiled a marble black. I walked on it briskly, mildly blinded by the contrast, and stopped in front of the fracción. Her head was bent back, eyes boring a hole on the tip of the hemispherical ceiling.

"'Da hell are you doing?"

She tilted her neck forward, quite slightly. Our difference in height made adjustments on her head's position insignificant.

"Merely surveying the setting, Grimmjow-sama. For likely drawbacks and advantages. I wish to make this session, more or less, not a ...ahh..._waste of your time..._ Is it not one of my duties to provide you satisfaction?"

I bared my teeth. Maybe this would turn out to be interesting after all.

"Ha. Chotto da, fracción..."

"... ... ...

...Wakkarimashite..."

And she attacked.

I was caught unprepared, not expecting the clash to start this early and to be in her terms. I barely brought up my arm just in time to shield me. The force from her kick only managed to make me skid backwards five feet away, but has effectively given me a shock, nonetheless. Not bad for a female runt.

"...ahhh... I seem to have broken my shin..." muttered Ferriesze while prodding her leg experimentally. She looked at me with the slightest indication of a frown. "Sasuga Espada. Your anatomy has far greater resistance and strength... I must calculate my moves better."

I laughed out loud, amused. "My turn then!"

I kicked backwards, the momentum propelling myself towards her. My fist was aimed and ready, awaiting the delicious contact with her face. However, at the last minute, she disappeared. Her sonido had taken her a fair distance away to my left. My hand burrowed instead on the floor a few steps from her previous place, fragments of the crushed marble floating up from the tiny crater I made. I extracted my fist and slowly turned to her.

Twin cracks issued as she flexed her neck to both sides. "May I ask a question?"

I grunted in reply. Without so much as a second elapsing, she was up to my face, katana unsheathed, aloft, and nearing my throat. She may be ridiculous in terms of force, but her speed and stealth were something to be well cautious of.

"How much would it take for me to see your _Resurrección _form?"

Silence. And then my lips' ends wound their way upwards into a smirk.

I bent my neck to a side. "Heh. See for yourself. Don't think there'd be a need for me to release here... ...And even if you'd manage to make me, I hella doubt you could survive the encounter..."

Ferriesze's unearthly gaze, intensified by our proximity, lowered finally with her sword. She sighed then backed away a step. "Very well..."

I cocked an eyebrow and scratched the tip of my nose. She seems to have gotten the hopelessness of challenging me while in that level.

"Gonna use yours then, huh? Ma, iie... I could use some playtime."

For a moment, I could've sworn a flash of annoyance showed on her eyes. But then her apathetic expression reverted back instantly, and quite alarming now, what with stray locks of her raven hair shrouding most of her face.

Without breaking our long held eye-contact, she leapt backwards. Her right hand found her katana's hilt in mid-air and unsheathed it soundlessly upon landing.

Her face turned into a frame of lethality.

The fifty-eighth arrancar started releasing.

"Hitonomi... ... ... _Murciélago._"

The entire area encircling her immediately erupted in an expanding cocoon of dust and smoke, but not before her eyes had left a pair of warning silver traces. I was forced off by a few inches, a little surprised. However, the slight shock soon vanished. My senses were caught. I became aware of the new aura smothering me. The new scent being given off. She smelled absolutely... _delicious_.

Before I knew it, I was laughing out maniacally, wound up and ecstatic.

"You could actually give this much out? Tell me earlier, Quiksilver!" My hand clawed off the fog obscuring my front. It was not too dense and instantly parted away. As expected, she did not linger in that spot. I smirked in derision as a white object, materializing from behind, raced to the side of my neck. I blocked her leg easily with my forearm. She disappeared again sooner than my grab for her. I narrowed my eyes. Now, it seemed, her sonido shifted into something unlike what we've been accustomed to. It was completely silent, for one; not a single echo issued. The transition, itself, was smooth, almost as if she was wholly erased by a quick single swipe out of the visible spectra.

"And... tch... reiatsu's frickin' hidden..."

I tensed my body and decided to just wait for her ensuing appearance. Curtains of dust still hung about; a suitable setting for concealed assaults. My eyes danced in their sockets. Once in a while, the corners of my mouth tugged themselves upward in my unrestrained anticipation. Her spirit force remained undetectable. Everything else persisted in chilling stillness. I was starting to grow impatient. Just then, a figure shimmered in my left. I swung to its direction; a mistake realized too late. My nape was met by sudden swift blow and I was lanced bodily forwards, finally crashing into the wall.

I sifted through my bed of rubble. I spat out some blood to the side, undisturbed by an amount of it dripping thickly down my temple. "Sheesh... No need to try crackin' my skull open... This'd cost ya, you know..."

She replied from the thinning smog, "By showing _Pantera _now, I hope?"

The last strands of smoke drifted off.

_Wings._

An enormous wing spanned each of her side. Sheets of tough white membrane were stretched tautly across that pair of forked skeletons, appearing of reptilian resemblance. They were jointed to the shoulder blades of her still tiny frame, vertical relief provided only by a new set of ears, which jutted out visibly on either side. Those upright features seemed to be made up of white, organic cartilages, much like humans', although triangular and unproportionally larger than the host head. Her previous hollow mask-remnant, a small skeletal wing-frame on the left region of the scalp, reformed into a visor which covered the upper area of her skull, leaving only her nose down to chin exposed.

Her humanoid-bat structure showed clearer as the floating dust dissipated completely. The claws of her new feet scraped the smooth marble with each step. As they reached me, she bent down and touched my bloodied forehead. The deep red liquid drew to her sallow skin. She licked it off with mocking condescension in front of my face.

"Unusually sweet, your blood. And with that expression on, it's as if you don't mind someone as low as I am getting a taste of it. A reasonable person would be redeeming himself by now, Grimmjow-_sama_…" And she tongued her stained finger more.

A feeling boiled inside of me. My repute was being openly scorned and challenged. And I. Hate. That.

The emotional uproar coursed through my veins and erupted in a blinding flash of spirit power. Turrets of smoke once again dispersed in violent waves. I saw her quickly take off and, with a knowing smirk, decided to give her exactly what she has been asking for.

"Kishire, PANTERAAA!"

The whole chamber was showered with neon blue flares that lashed around like electric sparks. I felt, with a rush of overwhelming reiatsu, my whole anatomy turning rapidly into its released form. I roared; the wild, now bestial, sound surging off in powerful airwaves. From this thick, heavy fog, I sensed her location, and immediately rocketed off to where she is. My newly streamlined body provided much more speed and effectively caught Ferriesze by surprise. Clawed fingers hooked on her shoulders and she was shoved violently backwards and onto the wall. The whole of her got embedded deep in the concrete, wings crumpled helplessly. She rebounded due to the force with a spluttering of blood from her mouth, droplets of which hitting the crown-like mask formed on my forehead. I drove her body deeper. More cracks sprode. Her visor split open. I let my feet, now paws, be alighted on either of her side, and barricaded her completely.

The predatorial hierarchy was placed back in order. She was, once again, my _prey_.

I brought my face closer to hers. My tail was flaying about in anticipation. "Doushite? Kono omae no owari da yo?"

Ferriesze only answered with heavy breaths and an unreadable expression in her eyes. Incited, I bared my sharpened teeth and went nearer. "Just a lick off of my blood? I'll show you how to really devour on your kill…" Something was growing inside. "…feel how it is being at the bottom of the survival order-"

A feral drive took over.

"…a lowly part of the food chain…"

_Sprrssh._

Her blood issued out thickly and quickly stained my lips. The expanse of flesh between her neck and collarbone into which my fangs penetrated was dyed with expanding webs of crimson. I drank on the warm fluid noisily. I sucked and drew out more, to my satisfaction. My feline ears caught the luscious resonance of a faint groan. I withdrew my teeth and licked on the pair of punctured rows.

She managed to mutter, "…G-grimmjow… sama…"

"Hah! I love it when you call me that! You understand you place now, huh, fracción?"

I met her face.

…

Her eyes…

The smirk I had been sporting slid off in my confusion. Those irises of the most fluid mercury struck me wordless. It was my first time seeing them this up close, under relief from light. They were now so livid, nearing the point of explosion, although her entire face was still contained, composed. It seemed to be becoming her emotional exhaust, funnelling feelings through it and letting them overwhelm me, the viewer. And not a single directed thought was pleasant.

Yet I was unbecomingly lured to them.

Her eyes were toxic, addictive, dripping with icy venom. Their poisonous quality sparked my inclination to the forbidden and lethal. My reckless and out of control demeanour has never been so far tempted to this extent. I want to give in to this new inducement, try relishing in her.

I stopped myself.

Within a blink of an eye, I was walking off towards the door, sheathing my already reverted zanpakutou. As I was to move out towards the corridors, her voice called out, surprisingly steady.

"Training is over?"

I answered without looking back.

"Training is over."

...ooO))xXx((Ooo...

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Reviews would be loved. \(*w*)/


	4. Chapter 4: Intoxication

_Bleach_ characters and other _Bleach_ thingies: (c) Kubo Tite

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**Chapter 4: Intoxication**

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…ooO))xXx((Ooo…

Ferriesze was, in all irony, tending to the injuries she herself had inflicted. Bandages were sprawled on the floor. Tubules of rancid liquid rolled off everywhere of their own accord. A basin of water was left atop the console table. Grimmjow, the subject, was fuming at the edge of his bed, annoyed by her slow progress.

Aizen, of course, had already a branch of arrancars specializing in physical treatment; however, he insisted she do it. Getting wounded a little by an underling was not something he was too keen on reaching the others' knowledge.

Her ineptitude at mending injuries was the price for this discretion.

"Do it properly!" He growled out for the eighteenth time.

"My apologies." Ferriesze obediently unfurled again the awkward nest of bandages she had been placing around his head. He glared at her.

This new company was not the thing he had expected to get, Grimmjow was sure of that. And not just because she practically falls disapprovingly short at the minor tasks, besides combat. He had known at once back then that her regard of him was not that instant, sincere devotion all the others pay toward their designated Espada. She was shrewd, indifferent and reliant only of her self. Although her mannerisms were even made to seem hyperboles of a fracción's, her intent is not to give pleasure alone.

Nevertheless…

Grimmjow slapped away her hands. He slumped exasperatedly on the bed, legs crossed and arms cradling his head. He pulled away all the loose dressings on his body with clear irritability, then closed his eyes in an apparent signal meant for her to leave.

"You no longer wish for me to continue?"

His eyes snapped back open. With a finger, he daubed at his forehead cut and examined the flakes of blood, congealed, that had stuck to it.

"With the rate you were going, they'd all have completely healed themselves before you'd finish…"

"Ah, indeed." She bowed her head. Grimmjow's eyes flickered. "Will you stop with that? It's disgustin' me already…"

"The bowing? If you want me to do so. Of course."

"_That._ Not the bowing. Exactly _that_. D'you always have to agree to everything I tell you?"

She eased herself from the stool she had been sitting on. She did not answer and remained in cryptic silence as she bent over the scattered wrappings and started fixing up. Grimmjow watched her while she did, noting the unchanged expression. He sighed then released a soft chuckle. This woman had been an amusing time-killer for the past days. Her reactions have become easily predictable, in that they were all in monotony, and, quite normal of her. However, the few rare times she does deviate from the routine responses were actually more interesting to watch. An unexpected developing entertainment of his during these long tiresome weeks.

Ferriesze had straightened up, arms laden with all the collected items and eyes alone seen from her shadowed face. The poor lighting in Grimmjow's room was to be thanked for this. One mere circular window sourced the outside's faint brightness which, in itself, was provided only by a singular moon, ever crescent, that looms above the forsaken dunes of Hueco Mundo. The pale luminance, however, was enough for this white-bathed quarters and helped the master make out most objects. The pair of irises that had intrigued him, for instance.

She maintained the blank, staring quiet for a moment then suddenly frowned. "…ahh.. yes… I haven't answered… Well, must I not always obey? After all, I am, in a logical sense, _enslaved_ to you…"

Grimmjow laughed.

"You think I can't see through you? You think I can't feel you restraining yourself from giving witty comebacks to all my demands? You've never thought of me as someone higher. You've always thought of your position as something so f***ed-up. That's why your ridiculous act's disgusting me."

The fracción was still; her yet unblinking eyes hanging like disembodied spheres on her gloom-shrouded face. They were reflecting the moonlight but now none of her present emotions. It was hard for Grimmjow to guess what she was feeling at the moment. And experience taught him uncertainty usually defines ensuing danger.

She spoke at last, voice, the barest of whispers. The Espada caught every word.

"I never knew that you are actually presuming, Grimmjow-sama... Do you think you know everything about me…?"

She disappeared from her place, reappearing suddenly crouched on top of a shocked Grimmjow. Her pupils reduced themselves into vindictive pinpricks.

"... … if you do… … … then, you must know I have developed a troublesome craving for that sweet, sweet treat of yours …"

The male arrancar's face sparked with shock and apprehension as Ferriesze bore her teeth on a side of his neck. They were tiny and pierced effectively, and penetrated through the aimed jugular vein. Grimmjow was frozen below her, feeling both his trickling blood and her smaller body resting on his. Her nails scrabbled on his shoulders, hair prickling his jaw, ear, chin, mouth lapping hungrily on the incisions.

_Slurp._

She raised her head to face him. Dark liquid was dripping down the sides of her mouth and splattering on his chest. She licked her lips absentmindedly as she stared down on the Sexta Espada and seemed to be contemplating on something.

"Your expression tells me you didn't know after all. Well then, how about I share some personal facts that might be of your interest? … eto… … … ahh… this concerns you as well. My oral glands secrete something more special than regular dribble. Our, arrancars', close affinity with our resureccións gave it this rather handy feature: anticoagulant proteins. Twenty times more potent than others."

Her cold fingers traced his blood-stained neck.

"Da-ka-_ra_, Grimmjow-sama… this wound would never close for as long as my mouth touches it, nor for as long as it is wet with my saliva. Death by bloodloss from sheer teeth-bites is not such a decent way for an Espada to die, is it?"

She edged nearer, the scent of his own blood stinging Grimmjow's nostrils. He had not given any kind of reaction for a long stretch at this point and had been merely watching her eyes. Ferriesze nearly suspected she had drunk too much of him.

Unwonted, her spine arched downwards from disturbing tingles. A pair of hands had started stroking across the contour of her back. They felt the smooth depression with a strange air and moved up slowly. Ferriesze narrowed her eyes as the face below her was reanimated with a fresh smirk and as he tangled those fingers with her hair. Grimmjow directed a last leer before brusquely crushing her mouth on his.

She felt a lip bleed as their jaws bore down on each other. She struggled, gaining a rib-crushing hold for the effort. His arms fully encircled her writhing body with a python-like clasp, seemingly also filled with the intent of constricting out all her lungs' air. Her gasps for breath could no longer penetrate the suffocating press Grimmjow's mouth imposed on hers. Her arms were folded uselessly between their torsos, powerless to push her away. As she let herself finally stop the futile resistance, Grimmjow separated their faces. His expression was fiercer than ever. His eyes were vivid with a maddened glow.

He turned their selves over into the opposite positioning; a statement of change in the circumstance, and in physical terms likewise. He enveloped her heaving frame with his larger bulk and kept baring an insane grin on his face. Ferriesze's characteristic lack of response and immediate composure was not even rousing his irritation. He was all too absorbed with the sudden compulsion he was experiencing. Both the prolonged period of gazing deep in her eyes and her audacity to, once again, threaten his superiority ignited an irrepressible craving. Grimmjow just needed to ravage her; exact her so much pain for being that way, permanently close those damn eyes that gave him such confusing feelings. She was to be obliterated.

Grimmjow ripped off the jacket of her upper suit. He spotted at once the opposite bows of puncture-marks his fangs had recently embedded. After a moment's thought, he plunged his nails into the scarred flesh, following the row of lesion. He dragged them out roughly, fragments of skin and body tissue clinging to his fingers. He smeared them off without care on his bare chest then began feasting on the reopened wound. His tongue caught as much fluid and sinew it could and formed a bloodied trail as it traced along the span of her neck. Grimmjow reached the jutted chin, found her lips, gorged on the soft, red skin. The blood they've taken from each other was allowed to intermix. His mouth tasted every inch of hers; sucking, biting, kissing. He only then released to draw a quick breath.

He locked eyes unto hers. Electric, deathly, blue fused into the suffocating pools of liquid silver. The shift in desire was instantaneous. It was intoxication once more. A soft, low rumbling coursed the back of his throat; the growl of uncertainty mirrored an erupting internal struggle: Was he to merely enjoy this as just another chance for reckless carnage? Or as a prospect of savouring her?

Ferriesze noticed the moment of hesitation. Her brows contracted slightly and she tried analyzing the vacant face frozen above her. His severe irises seem to be flickering more. His light blue hair was now falling down in tousled cascades. He was, by the second, seeming less dangerous. She shifted underneath him and wiped her lips with the heel of a hand.

"Is it my turn again?"

Grimmjow blinked twice as he recovered from the daze. He looked at her impassive face, then, processing what she had just said, gave out a genuine laugh.

"You wish…"

…ooO))xXx((Ooo…

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…

Szayel stepped out of his corner.

"And to what do I owe this pleasure of a visit, Ulquiorra Schiffer-san?"

The ashen-white arrancar caught his eyes with his unfathomable own. Szayel had put on the usual overbearing simper and had his arms extended, either to insultingly welcome him or just once again parade off his self-designed laboratory chamber. Ulquiorra did not care. He turned to another direction, toward a large cylinder and walked slowly to it. His fingers touched the clear glass as he examined the stirring liquid and the form suspended inside. The Octava Espada was watching him, familiar of his intent and excited of the opportunity to somehow enliven the unlikely plot Aizen had started, and was now beginning. It was, after all, rare of him to toy with his subjects out of sheer boredom and that, being the case, deserves a little something from Szayel Aporro Grantz. The corners of his mouth extended yet more.

Ulquiorra finally spoke. "I have questions for you. If you cannot answer or, as is more likely, do not _feel_ like answering… remember that I have more than one method of procuring what I need."

Szayel let an arm drop down on his sides. He secured his glasses with the other's finger and sported a mockery of someone just offended. "I'm wounded, Ulquiorra! How could you have possibly implied that I had no intentions of assisting you? Why, I live to serve my superiors! But, surely, you haven't been demoted? After all those ceaseless servant-drivel for Aizen-sama? Tsk, tsk. The sense of gratitude people have nowadays."

"Very amusing of you, Szayel Aporro. I have not been demoted nor am I planning to be. But unless you cooperate, I may be forced to spark Aizen-sama's fury by removing, permanently, his useful little scientist."

The other let himself stay in cold silence. As expected, the straightforwardness of Ulquiorra could easily puncture his theatrics. However, this incited Szayel all the more. Yellow irises were glinting, and underneath his palm, lips were arching upwards. The malicious expression was soon revealed with the removal of the covering hand.

Ulquiorra's eyebrows deepened their furrows.

"If you insist, Ulquiorra-san… I am not such a hard man to talk to, after all…"

Szayel ran his fingers along his hair, ending in a rather lurid flip.

"Satte-to… Sexta's fracción would be the topic of the day, am I right?"

...ooO))xXx((Ooo...

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Reviews would be loved. \(*w*)/


	5. GAH

For those who haven't read chapter 345 in the Bleach manga yet, HUGE, HUUUUGE SPOILER follows:

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HOOOLLLYYYY CRAAAAAPP!!!!!! Ulquiorra's resurección is a BAT!!! And it's MURCIELAGO also!!!!! I WAS SO FREAKING, FREAKING SHOCKED!!!! {pant} {pant} {pant}

……

Maaaaan… I'm still hella stunned… Just read the latest English fan scanlation at OneManga… O_O 'tis freaky giving your OC the exact same ability with the chara she's sort of related to months prior to that character's ability's revelation. O_O and I'm no way howsoever related to kubo tite-sama, nor had ever talked with him, seen him personally, share some unseen, ethereal empathy-mental link with him, nor can read minds miles away from where I am… So that must mean… GAH!!! OF COURSE!!! I MUST BE SOME AWESOME SOOTHSAYER!!!! BUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! BUHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! SMELLS LIKE BAD SPIRIT------!!! cough cough

….ehem …alrighty then… -_- forgive me, first of all, to those who were kind enough to endure reading this sorry excuse for a fanfic and are waiting for updates in vain. I haven't even started writing chapter 5 yet. Sort of got a bit discouraged by the scarce reviews… =_= and I'm supah, supah running low in inspiration by the infuriating absence of the smex god, Grimmjow, himself, in both the manga and anime. And I don't think I can use Ferriesze as a character anymore as she has, unforeseen-ly [but I may very well be a spontaneous oracle!!!], an identical resurección with Ulquiorra, and that's pretty impossible to happen, even in the Bleach world.

So, very much clueless as to what I am to do now.... However, as a thank you for the good people who have given me my eight reviews, I'll post this…. er…. poem? ….uhhh …yeah -_- _poem_… I passed before for our school paper…

…._bring on the barfbags…._

**Hollow**

_~A Tribute to Grimmjow-Jeagerjaques~_

It was his heart; cold, ruthless, black

Driven by bloodlust, a predator, attack

That rough demeanour, those canines bared

After battle, skin crimson smeared

His cruel eyes reflected the beast within

From his mouth, the feral roar, a resounding din

Streamlined body, muscular and tall

King of Cats, the resurrection forth called

Harbinger of death, vicious Pantera of feline ferocity

Dwells in the young man, within the tense, muscular anatomy

Azura, azura; then the hue of irises and hair

And the last colour on the eyes of victims never spared

Devoured by the darkness, consumed all spark of humanity

Never to love, none of a soul's warmth in his entirety

Mere anger, resentment, courses through his blood, raging flow

A shadow of existence, this man, so hollow, so hollow


	6. Chapter 5: Cuatro's Reclaim

whoot! i am finally in writing mode! decided to continue anyways -_- this must be the most supah delayed chapter in the history of fanfiction. thankfully managed to finish it up real fast last night. ^o^ boohyah!

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_bleach _characters and other _bleach _elements - (c) kubo tite-sama

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Chapter 5: **Cuatro's Reclaim**

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…ooO))xXx((Ooo…

There was daylight.

...

Ferriesze raised a forearm and blocked the shining rays from her eyes.

Actual daylight…

Actual daylight in a place where the sun has never existed. Aizen-sama must have appreciated the irony.

She let her pupils adjust for a few moments to the sudden appearance of a blinding blue sky before turning back to an agitated-looking Grimmjow. He nodded once then scratched his cheek.

"Ano yarou… He's really got freaky-ass tastes for this castle of his…"

"Nuebe won't be liking this." exclaimed a voice from his side. Starrk was crouched low, eyes squinted to the horizon in the barest minimum. He clicked his tongue in succession then heaved up a hand to massage his neck. "We sure are lucky this _little renovation_ didn't hit our rooms, eh, Grimmjow?"

"Speak for yourself." called out Yammy's gravelly tones. His hulking figure reached their side of the bridge, a white arch overlooking the excessively vast expanse of sandbanks and the relatively few outlines of massive red pillars which house the core interiors of Las Noches. He cast one last furtive look around the newly constructed section before collapsing on a nearby pillar. He groaned twice then pinched the bridge of his nose.

"All this light's giving me frickin' migraines…"

"We'll probably get used to this sooner or later."

"…_tseh_… I hope so…"

...

"Oi, Ferriesze. I've seen enough. Let's head back."

"…"

"Hey."

"…"

Grimmjow stared at the fracción's unmoving back. He noticed her head was still fixed in an upward tilt, towards the artificial sun. He narrowed his eyes in suspicions he couldn't quite understand himself before following after the two Espadas, the numerós left alone nonchalantly.

Las Noches. _The Night_. That was then. _This_ was now. And this now, was all intolerable. She gritted her teeth. Very uncharacteristic. But for lost reasons which now claw toward her consciousness, Ferriesze wishes back for the ink-washed sky. Hollows were creatures of the dark, yet her longing for the dusk's sinister allure surpassed even her sanity. She was used to inhaling in the stench of death and decay; contented in prowling through heavy mists and in the foreboding cacophony of silence. The lone moon was all the light she had needed, its dull radiance caught by the unmoving forms of her quarries then, her hollow siblings. She had devoured on them relentlessly. Progressed from one form unto another. Reaching evolution after evolution. All under the endless sheet of dark, black sky, she felt unimaginable power. But contentment, of course, never was of the hollows. The final step came and beckoned. Obtaining the strength of a _shinigami. _The final evolution. She remembers. _She remembers…_

_Her memories…_

No.

...

_The memories she had in another body…_

Ferriesze suddenly fixed her head in tight clutches. Her pupils were contracted to the limit, both eyes revolving rapidly around in their sockets. Saliva was flowing unconsciously from her half-opened mouth, simultaneous with thick, rasping sounds. Her body fell. On the floor, her torso heaved up and down to the extremes. The intense convulsions were supplemented with a rampant blaze racing around her network of nerves. Her mind alone was intact. In unimaginable pain. Streams of buried knowledge pounded their way out, casting a thick fog on her senses, on her judgement. Deep, maddening confusion arouse.

_How could she only remember having existed inside a wholly different entity? _

_What of her life before being consumed? _

_Had she ever been as a self? _

_Her own being? _

_Was she ever awake? _

_Who, then, had been her _host_? _

A memory, no, a recurring feeling of being torn off forcibly from another gorged her very core. The mere recollection of the pain dulled everything else. Eaten by and fused into an individual, then separated from it once more; the agony must have been beyond endurance. Had that been her birth?

"The sky is not up to your tastes, isn't it?"

Ulquiorra was standing by the entrance, gazing down at her now still form. The fracción's irises slowly found his and remained there. He watched her sweat-stricken face gradually regain the accustomed impassive pallor.

The Espada held out one, ashen hand.

"Come with me."

…

She got up and followed.

…ooO))xXx((Ooo…

...

Once more in lightless confinement, Ferriesze immediately took to the usual subdued brooding. She studied the whole span of which she knew as nothing else than the Cuatro's chambers. It seemed to only be taken up by a plain, white bed.

"Much better now?"

She turned to the direction of the voice. Ulquiorra closed the door behind him, placing the room into further gloom and darkness.

"_Omae_… I finally know…", he whispered, making small, measured steps toward the other arrancar. He undid his upper suit.

Finally closing the distance, his hand reached out for hers and let the pallid tips of her fingers trace the edges of his _hollow_ hole. Her skin felt as cold as his. It was nearly as sallow as his. Their eyes both try to reach each other's distant, empty gazes. The Octava was right.

Ulquiorra removed his hold, her hand however stayed on his chest. "You are very much like this void. Do you know why?"

Ferriesze inclined her head to a side. A gesture of uncertainty.

The Espada talked on. "The very mark of a hollow; the absence of a heart. Our holes distinguish us as beings who have cast away the purity of their souls. We have more than the others, and yet have less. More power, yes; but no longer do we have the ability to care, feel… be _human_. I think we are better off this way though. Nihilism, indeed… However, you-"

He stroked the side of her neck. "-_You…_ are a different matter…"

The female arrancar stared through her untiring apathetic composure. A small throb of pain flitted across her temple. "I still do not seem to understand you, Ulquiorra-sama…"

The latter brought his face closer and now maintained a firm hold on her nape. The pain was building up once more. Ferriesze took no notice. Ulquiorra talked on. "This heart I've lost, I do not care about it anymore. But I've found something new and interesting which also was a part of me. And I badly… want it back…"

His tongue slid out from his mouth and fondled her lips. He pulled back immediately then started removing her garments.

"Nani o shiteimasu ka?" she asked, face, still, a veil of soberness.

The Cuatro Espada grasped her dark hair. He bent down, his mouth leaving faint prickles as it travelled across her now exposed shoulders, to her jaw, to her ear. He spoke to it softly. The cold hostility that hang about his voice held in the barest tinge.

"Merely taking back what was mine, Ferriesze Quiksilver…"

…ooO))xXx((Ooo…

"_If you insist, Ulquiorra-san… I am not such a hard man to talk to, after all…" _

_Szayel ran his fingers along his hair, ending in a rather lurid flip._

"_Satte-to… Sexta's fracción would be the topic of the day, am I right?"_

_Ulquiorra fixed him another callous stare. "Tell me everything you know."_

_The Octava released another series of sinister chuckles from his lips. He motioned for the other to follow him into a deeper chamber where a throne-like chair was waiting for him. Amid the penumbrae of darkness, his gleaming copper eyes were now cast into indistinctness. He sat himself on the article cross-legged and surveyed Ulquiorra for some moments. A heavy quiet overhung the surroundings so completely that the then subtle hum of nearby machineries now seem to have ridden the room with resonant vibrations. Ulquiorra felt a drop of unease. Finally, Szayel spoke once more._

"_We are Aizen-sama's army, are we not?"_

_Ulquiorra did not reply. He had not needed to. Nor did he want to. The opulent smile displayed on Szayel's face as he spoke also entailed that this was rhetoric. Although a deeper meaning was indeed reflected on his eyes. Resentment, perhaps._

_The Espada adjusted his glasses. "Yes. His very own battle-force. One who follows his every whim. We were sought by him, created by him, strengthened and gradually proliferated through his abilities; all for one, sole purpose: to _conquer. _However, to conquer, numbers were of greatest vitality..."_

_He raked a hand through his hair once more and shifted position on his seat. He took time examining the ends of his locks before resuming his explanation._

"_Hollows are simply thriving in Hueco Mundo, we are correct in assuming that. But times have changed, especially now. The shinigamis alone are not to be blamed for our decreasing tallies. When Aizen was still experimenting on the menos grande, of course not all of his ventures were successful. A lot of the subjects were disposed of. After those, once he had gained full knowledge of the exact workings of the hougyoku, the arrancar count did steadily grow, however did also the number of them sent to and killed in early battles. A further drop in his manpower. Also, a fair number have not survived the transformation itself. They have been instantly annihilated in the process. Aizen starts to become quite picky at that point, I presume. But after he had already gathered completely his strongest allies, the most powerful of the menos, each of the adjuchas, even all of the vasto lordes, his supply of raw, potential resources is nearly used up…_

"…_And so where now will he get more soldiers?"_

_Ulquiorra now gave him his most intense stare and attention. A fuse of realization started to ignite in his eyes. Szayel leered as he took notice and leaned forward in his stool. _

"_We have missed an important factor in the hollows' decline in population. Very important, in fact. And I believe you are starting to know where I am getting at, Ulquiorra-san…_

"…_Hollows _eat _one another…"_

_With a clear, sharp click of his fingers, the room was immediately cast with artificial light. The Cuatro's sight was instantly assailed by rows of tall and thick glass cylinders housing an effervescing liquid where some forms were suspended. The submerged figures appear to be fully-developed arrancars disfigured by a singular part of them maturing into newer structures. Ulquiorra was witnessing anatomical components progressing into actual individual beings. He was lost for words._

"_Allow me to explain…"_

_His eyes flicked back Szayel. The latter seemed to be enjoying this._

"_We all know about the prospect of _degeneration_. To prevent this, we eat. We join the hunt to survive. Our fellow hollows source our strength and power. We devour on them ceaselessly for fear of devolving. Once we have consumed them, they fuse into our bodies and become new parts, but without being; they have been stripped of consciousness. However, what if we manage to separate them from their host? Now one mere arrancar would give hundreds of new allies! We needn't worry about scouring the whole of Hueco Mundo for fresh, capable subjects. Others may even have swallowed menoses with huge potentials. Aizen, naturally, wanted this possible. And, naturally, the project was tasked to me. I had just succeeded recently…_

"_Dear Ferriesze came from you, Ulquiorra. She was one of the hollows that had sustained you as food. Thanks to your regenerating abilities, we got a part from you without you noticing anything…"_

_The Cuatro Espada absentmindedly reached for his eye, remembering the long, thin finger that had pointed at it. Now that he finally knew everything, there was one thing left. He turned for the passage out. _

"_Oh, and, one more thing, Ulquiorra, before you go..."_

_The raven-haired arrancar did not glance back at Szayel's call and merely gave a slight turn of head as acknowledgement. All the same, the Octava persisted with his smirking countenance._

"_There were a few kinks with my first experiment. I had not managed to recover completely some facets of Quiksilver-chan and so she has retained several attributes of yours. You may have noticed Grimmjow's sour mood nowadays---" _

_Leaving a thoroughly amused Szayel alone, Ulquiorra stepped into a slipstream and was gone with fleeting echoes of his exit._

...ooO))xXx((Ooo...

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Beings have that obstinate aspect of yearning for lost, disconnected features of their lives. They always wish to be reunited with severed objects that had been once part of their existence. They feel disconcerted knowing that there are gaping voids in their hearts that must be filled. And so they continually seek for these misplaced fragments. Once found, the feelings experienced differ vastly from person to person. Some feel fulfilled. Others, simply ecstatic. A few, perhaps sadness, perhaps pain. And then there are ones who feel _power_, as Ulquiorra Schiffer does now.

He gazed at the naked form of Ferriesze deep in slumber on his chest. His hand continued combing slowly through her black hair, his eyes drinking in every feature of her resting face, his skin sensing hers as her pale arms wound across his torso. His cold, immutably impassive expression softened, and apathy modulated into possessiveness. Never had he felt such complete control, such dominion over a little possession which he has now no intentions of losing to _anyone_. For that, he might think of means to have her as entirely his own. But this night, she had been his.

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"I have claimed you back…"

...ooO))xXx((Ooo...

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\(*w*)/ reviews would be very, very, very loved.

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waaah~! linkies to dev art don't seem to wanna work here anymore!!!

(T^T) ...if you're interested, beloved reader, i guess you could browse for ferriesze quiksilver in deviantart... 'tis by the idiot named foo-tan... i promise it's decent enough... or so at least you won't puke all over it till a few moments... (-_-)


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